


Strings Cut

by unholy_this



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Loathing, Sort Of, anyway if there's a chance it will upset you don't read it, hey it's Killian we're talking about here, i'm not sure, non-graphic mentions of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 14:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12134478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unholy_this/pseuds/unholy_this
Summary: After the events ofMy Puppet, Killian struggles to forget and move on. Emma wants to be by his side, but how easily will he let her in?





	Strings Cut

A loud ringtone wakes him up from his troubled sleep.

He can hear a voice - he thinks it’s Emma’s - talking softly somewhere close to him. He opens his eyes, but there’s no light in the room. He makes out her figure, still sitting on the floor next to his bed.

“Okay, bye,” she says and terminates the call. She looks at the phone for a few seconds in silence.

“Swan?”

His voice catches her attention. She turns around and turns on the light on his nightstand, momentarily blinding him.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Did I wake you up?”

“What happened? What time is it?”

“It’s only eleven. My dad just called, he said Belle talked to him.”

Killian opens his eyes wide. Belle…

“She said that she banished Gold from the town.”

A weight he didn’t know was burdening him is lifted away. “What?”

“He’s gone, he won’t come back.” She gently takes his hand in hers and smiles a little.

Killian sighs heavily, trying to push away the thought that this is not the last they’ve seen of the Crocodile. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Emma asks hesitantly.

“Aye. I’m just… glad we’re all safe. From him.”

Emma nods. “We are.”

They stay in silence for a few moments before Emma speaks again. “Look, if you want to talk to me about what happened, I’m here, and it would be good for you to talk. If you want to, of course.”

Killian nods, but feels a shiver run down his spine. How is he going to tell her? How can he talk about how Gold treated him, when he can barely admit it to himself?

“Take your time,” Emma says softly.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“It’s not _that_ late,” she says and shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“You can… you can lie down on the other bed.”

She turns to look at it, and when she turns to him she looks thoughtful. Before she has the time to think that he doesn’t want her there, he squeezes her hand a little, still holding his. She smiles and rubs at it with her thumb, and he yawns.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

When he wakes up from another nightmare, he panics for a second at the lack of feel of Swan’s hand in his. But as he opens his eyes, he spots her on the other bed, lying on top of the covers, her breath even and slow and her eyes closed.

Good.

Killian allows his body to shiver at last.

_Damn, that hurts._

He knows he needs to take a shower, he feels like he reeks after everything… but his body hurts too much to even roll in his bed, let alone stand up and bathe.

Supporting himself on his left arm, he manages to sit up. He hisses when he does, biting down a grunt.

_Stand up!_

He does, which relieves the pain in his ass, but he still feels weak. He doesn’t know when that happened, but his pants are on and zipped up. He hopes it was Emma’s magic, she wouldn’t really pull away his covers while he slept...

He tries to take a few steps to the bathroom, and he feels his returned heart sink when his limbs hurt too much for him to walk normally. He limps the rest of the way to the shower and leans his body on the glass, breathing heavily from exhaustion and pain.

He turns to look at himself in the mirror. He looks pale and his eyes are red-rimmed with dark circles under them.

“Lookin’ awful there, mate,” he whispers to himself and starts undressing. His right arm still hurts just a little from how he’d gripped the counter earlier this day, but it’s nothing compared to how his backside feels. It protests when he bends over to remove his pants and underwear, but only a small gasp escapes him. Then he sees the bruises on his knees.

They were hitting the cupboard under the counter with every thrust-

He grips the shower door tighter, a shock running up the tired muscles on his arm and he leans forward, instinctively covering his crotch with his stump.

 _It’s over, it’s over, he’s gone…_ he forces himself to think.

_I will live. I’m safe. He’s gone._

Panting hard, he raises his stump to his face to wipe away the tears running down his cheeks.

His thoughts heavy and dark, he steps into the shower without looking at the rest of his body. The warm water and soap rinse away the filth of the last two days along with the feeling of that monster’s body against his own. Almost. With eyes closed, Killian barely has the strength to scrub his body clean, but he forces himself to do it.

His arm hurts, his knees hurt, his hips hurt, his ass _fucking hurts_ …

When he opens his eyes he sees a bit of blood running down the drain. He feels his stomach clench and he leans forward, supporting himself on the shower wall.

Bloody hell, he can’t throw up again. He hasn’t eaten anything since the last time he threw up in the Diner, and he already feels too weak from hunger.

Biting down his scream to avoid waking Emma, he punches the shower wall hard in frustration. Another shock runs up his arm, this time up to his shoulder. It hurts too, but it’s a little distracting at least.

He swallows hard and stays there for a while, hunched forward until the warm water has helped his muscles relax completely. His hand goes for his chest, and he concentrates on the fast but stable and _present_ beating of his heart.

He turns the water off, the cool air making him shiver but he doesn’t cover himself with the bathrobe yet.

He needs to see.

He sighs heavily, his breath forming a cloud, and he steps out carefully. Still limping, he turns to face the full-length mirror.

It’s not as bad as he thought.

There are bruises around his hips, front and back where Gold was grabbing him from. The bruises on his knees are less obvious but they’re still there.

Good thing he only owns long pants.

He’s certain there’s got to be a bruise or something around his scalp, he feels a few sore places where Gold had pulled his hair, but not something obvious amongst his dark hair.

He swallows hard and drops his gaze. His backside hurts most of all. Slowly and carefully, he turns his back to the mirror and takes a few deep breaths.

He will heal. He’ll be safe.

He just has to know.

He turns his face, looking over his shoulder to the mirror.

_So that’s how it looks like._

His lower lip starts trembling a little. The bruises are not that horrid - they have a deep crimson and purple color and are a little spread out, but it’s the memory that almost makes Killian break down. Once again, his stomach heaves and a little bile reaches his mouth. Whimpering, he puts his fist against his closed mouth and forces himself to swallow. It tastes sour and bitter and horrible, but he has had enough of it all. When he pulls his hand away, he realizes it’s bruised as well from the punch he gave to the wall.

He drops his head, and a few droplets of water fall from his hair down to the floor. He feels clean again, but it’s not enough to calm his mind.

What if Gold comes back? What if he hurts Swan like he did…

He curses himself for fearing the bastard, but he really can’t help it.

Looking at his face in the mirror above the sink, he still looks exhausted. Perhaps a few more hours of sleep would do him good. He puts on his bathrobe, wipes his hair with another towel and rinses his mouth clean with water.

He opens the door quietly and spots Emma sitting up in her bed, raising her head from her phone as she sees him.

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles softly at him. He tries to smile back and nods.

“Do you want me to go?”

He looks at her for a moment and thinks. Without being completely sure, he shakes his head.

Emma nods. “Tell me if you change your mind.” She then lies back on the bed and turns her back to him.

Killian couldn’t be more grateful. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he also needs some time… some time to hide under the covers and disappear off the face of the earth. He wraps the bathrobe tighter around him and opens the drawers to get himself some clothes… underwear and cotton pants and shirt. Long sleeves.

Like a scared child, he buries himself under the covers completely and hugs his torso with his left arm, his hand resting right above where his heart is beating.

_I’m safe._

_It’s over._

_He’s gone._

* * *

“I promised you we’d have some fun first.”

His idea of fun, bloody bastard. Tying him up and violating him and making him scream in pain…

“This is what you deserve-”

_Killian, wake up!_

“No, you’ll listen to me, pirate!”

_Wake up!_

He opens his eyes to see all white. He puts his arms out, trying to fight whatever it is that’s hindering him from seeing and breathing normally.

“Let me, let me.”

The sheet is lifted off of him and he sees a concerned Emma standing above him. He feels the sweat run down his forehead and his chest hurt from his ragged breathing.

“It was just a nightmare. It’s over now.”

Killian closes his eyes, his breathing not getting normal.

“Can I touch you?”

“No!” he shouts. Realizing his mistake, he opens his eyes wide. He only sees her nod and look at him with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s alright, Killian. Just try to calm down.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s eight in the morning. Do you want me to get you something to eat?”

His growling stomach answers her question. Emma smiles and starts walking to the door.

“Wait,” he says softly. She does, and his lips move a little as he tries to speak, but he doesn’t really have anything to say.

“I’ll be right back. Do you want me to stay?”

He shakes his head. “Go.” He needs a moment alone anyway.

After she leaves, Killian checks the bruise on his knuckles. Bloody hell, it’s gotten worse, there’s no way he’ll manage to hide it from Emma. The other ones, maybe, but this…

He tries to sit up, but once again his ass hurts too much to allow him that, so he flops down on his side again, wincing softly at his bruised body touching the mattress.

Emma’s back a little later, holding two white food boxes and one plastic bag.

“I got you some painkillers, you can throw them away if you want but I think it’ll be a good idea to…” she starts, but drifts off when she sees the flash of anger on his face. He doesn’t need some bloody medicine to get over it.

“I won’t need them.”

“Oh, well, it’s never a bad idea to have some around,” she says and sits down on her bed. She smiles when she hears his stomach growl again and she places the white box on his bed.

“Eat up. It’s gonna get cold.”

Bloody hell.

He doesn’t want her smiles now. He needs her to be realistic and honest with what happened. Her smile dies on her lips and she drops her head.

“I’m sorry.”

At that, however, he raises his head from the pillow a little. “What could you possibly ask forgiveness for?”

“That I didn’t know. That I hadn’t realized what was happening. What he was doing to you.”

“I wasn’t really given any chances to show you something was wrong.”

She raises her head and he sees tears in her eyes. “My dad talked with Belle.”

“Aye, you said that.”

“He told me details, Killian. Belle asked Gold everything before she banished him… she said he… he-”

“Stop.” He wasn’t going to hear it from her. He wasn’t going to hear it from anyone.

“I could have helped you…”

“Emma, please, stop.” His voice drops and his face saddens. “I can’t… I can’t talk about this now, please.”

“Okay, okay.” She wipes the tears from her eyes and picks up her cheese sandwich hesitantly. “But you’ll need to, at some point.”

“Need what?” He hasn’t touched his food yet.

“To talk. About what happened,” she says and gestures with her free hand.

Killian opens his eyes wide for a moment before he closes them and half-buries his face in the pillow.

“I’m not saying now,” Emma starts.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Killian-”

“It’s not the first time,” he says in such a soft voice he’s not sure she heard him. Her silence, however, tells him that she did.

“Not… the first…”

“I’ve… it has happened... before. And I was much younger, I dealt with it then, I can deal with it now.” He raises his head to look at her. Her face is one of pure shock and new tears appear in them.

“I’m… you… You don’t have to… you don’t have to deal with it, like that. You can talk, it’ll be easier.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve… I’ve seen children in the foster system, younger or older… and it always helped them to talk,” she admits in a small voice, having placed her food back inside its box.

“Children? Who were…?”

“Either that or… other things. Talking wasn’t always suggested, because sometimes the foster parents didn’t care, but I knew- know, it helped. And it can probably help you get over it, perhaps faster than... earlier.”

Killian looks at her for a moment before he drops his eyes again.

“And I said, you don’t have to do it now, but just… think a little about it. I’ll- I’ll be here for you, if you want to talk to me.”

Killian raises his head, and for the first time he feels a determination fill him. “Were you… back when you were…”

“No. I didn’t have a good time either, but at least that didn’t happen to me.”

The feeling goes away and an emptiness is left behind. He won’t be bothered with trying to exact revenge on people who might’ve hurt her.

They fall into silence for a few moments. They don’t even eat, until the silence feels unbearable.

“I’ve gotta- I’ve gotta work,” Emma says. “Do you want me to… ?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine.”

Emma nods. “Call me if you need anything.”

Killian nods back and closes his eyes as she walks out of his room.

He doesn’t call her that day. He spends most of the first day in bed, stubbornly not getting the medicine and simply forcing himself to eat his by then cold breakfast.

The second day he walks to the docks, looking at the pedestrians terrified in case they are mocking him or pitying him for his condition. No-one pays him any attention, though. It’s as if no-one knows, and he’s grateful. It’s enough that Belle, Emma and Snow witnessed the assault and that David found out about it.

He sits down carefully on a bench by the docks, and suddenly Gold is beside him. He disappears after a second, and Killian gasps for a few moments before he realizes it wasn’t magic, but his mind playing tricks on him. He grunts softly and buries his face in his hand, trying to recall what happened during that moment they were sitting by the docks.

He forced him to sit down and listen to him...

He talked about how he was preparing for his spell…

He wanted Belle away from the fairies…

His head shoots up at that. _The fairies_. What had happened to them?

His breathing goes faster again. He had something to do with them… them… disappearing. Why didn’t he remember…?

The box.

He didn’t remember everything, but he knew the box had to do with them disappearing, and it was his fault, and then Gold came and forced himself inside him… pushing him down on the counter and toying with him and hurting him…

“Are you okay?” he hears.

“No,” he says softly.

“Sir, do you want some help?”

Killian stills. He doesn’t recognize that voice. He shoots his head up - when did he bury it in his hand again? - and he sees an old man he doesn’t know, probably a fisherman if he judged by his apparel, looking at him with worry.

“Are you alright?” he says.

Killian stands up and walks away from him fast.

“Hey,” the man says carefully.

“Leave me alone!” Killian says all too angrily.

He buries his hand in his pocket and walks away from the docks, eyes darting here and there for any people who may see him and grow worried. It’s only then he realizes tears have been streaming down his face since the man was talking to him. He wipes them away and keeps looking at the street carefully, getting ready to change direction or fight back if the need arises.

He finds no obstacles on his way to the Sheriff’s Station. For a moment he contemplates what he’s even going to do. He doesn’t really remember what he did to the fairies, only that he and the box had some involvement in it, what is he going to tell David?

David. He _hopes_ it’s just David there today.

With a hesitant step, he walks into the station and holds his breath. He lets it out in relief when he sees it’s indeed only David inside, sitting on his desk.

“Hook!” David exclaims once he sees him. “Haven’t heard from you. How are you?”

Great. Worried face.

“I’m… I’m fine. Been eating and sleeping well.” He forces a smile on his face, and to his relief, David mimics his. If David doesn’t believe his lies, he doesn’t show.

“Good. What can I do for you?”

Killian swallows hard. “I… I assume you’ve heard about the missing fairies?”

David sighs. “Top priority. Everything’s almost back to normal and yet we have no idea about that.”

Killian winces. “Well, I may have. I did something to them,” he says slowly.

  
“ _What_ did you do to them?” David asks carefully after a moment. He picks up a pen, but slowly and purposefully so that it doesn’t look like he’s holding a weapon.

“I… I don’t remember.” Killian feels his cheeks blush and he shrinks back.

“From the shock?”

“What?” Killian looks back up, not sure he heard David right.

“From the… it’s usual, when people go through a… traumatic moment,” David says carefully, “they tend to forget things.”

Killian tries to mentally shake himself. _Bloody idiot_. He was in the Navy. He’d come across countless of sailors who couldn’t remember things after hard and deathly fights.

“Right,” Killian says.

“It’s alright… I mean, the memory loss. But, did you choose to do it?”

“No.”

David nods. “I assume, since your memory isn’t helping with that, then it must have been Gold… providing you aren’t lying.”

Killian feels a shiver run down his spine. He doesn’t want people to pity him, but he’s come too far to be accused of lying.

He did lie to Swan…

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to help, would I? The Crocodile is banished and has a lot to answer for already, why would I add one more to the list?”

“Because he’s not here to tell his side of the story,” David quips back. “But you have a point. What can you tell me about them?”

When Killian returns to his room in Granny’s he realizes he’s exhausted, even though it’s only evening. He plops down on the bed and closes his eyes.

He didn’t have any more flashes of Gold being there or hurting him or of any other kind, but he didn’t manage to tell David a lot either. David assured him that his help was important, but still Killian feels the guilt weighing him down.

Not only could he not resist Gold’s orders to hurt the fairies, he now isn’t strong enough to help them. He buries his face in his pillow in despair when he hears his phone buzz.

He’s still getting used to the contraption, but he manages to read Emma’s message inviting him to breakfast the next morning.

He contemplates calling her, but if he does she’ll want to talk, talk about _it_ … and he can’t talk about it.

He sleeps buried under the covers again and wakes up crying from his nightmare, needing almost a full hour to steady his breathing this time.

Emma doesn’t wait long the next day. She knocks on his door before it’s even noon.

“Are you okay?”

Killian sighs. “I thought you were gonna give me some time.”

“Yes, time to talk and… get yourself together, not push me away.”

“I think you know by now that’s not the issue. It’s been only two days-”

“You could have replied to my message.”

“And tell you what? That I don’t want to have breakfast with you because in the mornings I’m dead tired and...”

Emma’s face falters. “And what?”

He scoffs. “Nothing.”

“And yes, you could have told me that. I know it’s hard for you, you don’t need excuses. Just… trust me to handle it with you.” Her voice is still low, but to Killian it’s like she’s shouting.

He looks at her carefully. “You want me to talk.”

“No… I mean, yes, I want it because I want to help you, but I want it to be on your own terms. I want you to help yourself.”

Killian scoffs.

“Killian,” she starts.

He drops his gaze and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m here for you, alright? Take your time and all but, please don’t push me away. Just send a ‘no’ next time so I know that you’re at least responding.”

He realizes too late the sadness in her tone, and he raises his head to see her exit and close the door behind her.

_Perfect, you bastard. And you don’t even have the courage to go after her._

He drinks himself to oblivion that evening.

He’s about to do the same the next day, but he gets a call from David asking for help.

“You want me to research with you in the library?” Killian asks, not believing his ears. He’s going to make him work with Belle-

“Just you and me. Belle won’t be there, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Killian freezes, glad that David can’t see his face through the phone. David knew Killian would feel awkward around her…

“If you don’t want to come it’s alright, I just guessed that if you want to help…”

Help…

He looks at the rum bottle on his bedside table, and realizes he could surely use a distraction just about now.

They stay in the library until late in the night, their whole research fruitless.

“It’s useless,” Killian says when they prepare to lock up. “Unless I remember what happened, it’ll be a waste of time.”

“Perhaps we’ll come across something that may trigger a memory. Do you have anything else to do these days?”

“Not really…” he admits in a low voice. “But… Belle...”

“I’ll talk to her. We can make up a schedule so that you’ll both do research without having to see each other.”

Killian doesn’t want to admit - he’s barely admitted it to himself - that he actually _wants_ to see and talk to Belle. He hasn’t even thanked her for saving his life.

He just knows that Belle won’t want to see him.

* * *

They manage to avoid each other for a few days, but their schedules are short and eventually they run into each other.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” he says as he tries to pick up his books.

“It’s alright, take your time.” She throws glances at him but tries to cover it.

“How… how have you been?” The words are past his mouth before he thinks too much on them.

“Good, considering. Banishing your husband after finding out he’s been lying and cheating on you is never easy, but then again…” She looks up at him with a sympathetic face, and the glistening in her eyes tells him that she hasn’t talked too much about it either.

“It’s not fair to you, to compare the two-”

“He was _cheating_ on me, with you, by…” She grunts and pushes the heel of her palm on her forehead. “I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve to hear that.” She looks down.

“Don’t worry about me, love. Take care of yourself first.” He starts to leave, his steps as quiet as he can, but he stops right before he opens the door. He turns around slowly and with his face down, he looks up at her.

“I… I wanted to thank you. You saved my life, and you didn’t have to.” He drops his gaze down and starts to leave.

“Wait,” she says. He turns around, door still open. “I mean, if you want to, if that’s not too hard for you… I’d like to talk to you.”

He feels his heart flutter, whether it’s from relief or fear, he doesn’t know. He wants to talk to her, so much, but then sitting down to talk to her about what happened…

“Are you sure you want that? I mean, our past...”

“Are you okay?”

Her question shocks him. He huffs. “Well, that’s the last thing I expected you to ask me.”

Her expression is soft. “I merely saw what... what RumpIe was doing and I still have nightmares. I can’t imagine how it must have been for you.”

He drops his gaze.

“Are you okay with me… talking about that?”

“Aye.” He lifts his head again. “I’m sorry for what happened, with me, and…”

Belle shakes her head. “It wasn’t your choice. It took me some time to get there but I… I believe you would have made the right choice, if you could.”

He bites his lip. “That’s not exactly… true. I knew about the fake dagger, long before he took my heart.”

Belle blinks her eyes in surprise.

“I blackmailed him with that information, but it came around to bite me in the ass.” He throws a small, weak smile.

“You didn’t deserve that. No-one does.” She looks a little upset, but her words sound honest.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?!”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, Belle. I even hurt you,” his voice almost breaks, so he swallows the lump in his throat. “I want to repent and become a better man but I will take punishment if I deserve it.”

“Well, have you done _that_?” she asks, and at first she looks bold, but afterwards her expression grows unsure.

He rushes to reassure her. “No.” Never. He’s heard about victims becoming perpetrators, and he has been guilty of doing that in some ways, but never so cruelly.

But then, who is he to set the limit?

She relaxes and nods. “Did you find anything today?”

“Nothing yet. But I’ll keep looking. We also have the old man to release from the hat.”

That man. His shoulders sag with guilt every time he thinks about him.

Forced down on a chair, by him no less, and being… being…

Screams. The man screaming… and the fairies as well.

Running around as something… a yellow magic light chases them into…

“Are you having a flashback?”

Killian blinks. He’s still in the library, still holding the book he picked up earlier and Belle stands a little closer to him.

“I did?” he says, uncertain.

“You looked a little… out. Are you okay?”

Killian bites his lip, thinking. “I’m fine. I… I think I have an idea.”

Without a second word, he steps out.

He’s about to walk to Granny’s when he meets Emma halfway, a paper bag from the Diner in her hand.

“Hey,” she says with a smile.

He drops his head. He can’t deal with the guilt of staying away from her now. He tries to smile at her.

“Hey, don’t… I told you it’s okay. Don’t blame yourself for staying away.”

“I don’t want to stay away,” he whispers.

“I know. Can I?” she says and extends her hand a little, going for his arm. He nods, and she touches it softly.

He feels a warmth settle in his bones at the fact that he doesn’t want to pull away. He looks up at her, and her soft smile nearly breaks him. He leans forward, carefully, and wraps his arms around her. She returns the hug, and then her fingers go for his hair-

“No,” he says, still embracing her. Her hand immediately lowers down to his back, resting between his shoulder blades.

“Sorry,” she says.

He breathes her in, the exuberant relief that he can touch her again making him forget what he was planning to do. They pull away slowly, and her smile is bigger, and happier this time.

“Join me for a coffee in Granny’s?” she offers.

“Actually… Is it crowded?”

“Not much. There were a lot of empty tables… why?”

“I may need to trigger a flashback there.”

Her eyes go wide. “What?”

“It’s fine-”

“Killian, you don’t have to push yourself…”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging with guilt. “It’s been almost a week, Swan, and I still can’t remember. And today… I think I saw something.”

“You had _another_ flashback? And you want to trigger one more?”

The worry in her eyes pushes the lie out. “I saw it in my sleep.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Your sleep? Right now?”

He sighs again.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you what to do, I’m just… worried about you. You probably know it better than I do but having flashbacks is... “

“I need to do this. I can’t sit anymore and search for needles in haystacks. If it takes one flashback to solve the puzzle, so be it.”

“Can I be there?”

He’s taken aback by her question. “What?”

“I’d like to be there for you, if it’s okay.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? To help you, be there for you. I already told you I want to.” She looks at him for a pause, and says, “You don’t need to feel ashamed.”

He shakes his head. “It’s… it won’t… it’ll be ugly.”

He sees her shiver a little, but her face is certain. “I know. But it won't be uglier than dealing with it on your own.”

He blinks in shock. Her choice of words… she didn’t try to make him think it will be _better_ if she’s there.

“Are you sure?” he asks, angry at his voice for not sounding sure.

“I am. Are you?” When he doesn’t answer, she continues. “If it’s not, just tell me. At any moment, and I’ll walk away. But I will be okay.” She rubs her thumb on his arm as she speaks, and he feels part of the weight lift.

It feels like he hasn’t breathed normally since the day Gold took his heart.

He nods, and they turn to walk to Granny’s. Emma instructs Killian to stay out, and he hears the woman’s angry shouts complaining about how they did an investigation a week ago and how they can’t just barge in now...

Eventually, the Diner empties and Emma is the last one to exit.

“Are you ready?”

He merely nods. “From the back entrance.”

He tries to take the same steps he did that day. Entering through the door, resting his head on the wall right next to it, listening to the conversations…

The hat.

He was holding the hat, and it was…

He walks further down the hall. Yes, he definitely had the hat. Pulsing with power on his hand…

He turns towards the Diner.

Flashes of light, screams, women running… the hat sucking them in.

Sucking them in. Like it did that old man. Because Gold needed their powers for his spell and-

Gold.

Pushing himself inside him, hard and painfully and screaming in ecstasy as Killian bled…

It’s like he’s pushing him down on a table now, and Killian can’t breathe...

“Killian, is it a flashback?”

He comes to right then. He’s awkwardly fallen on his knees, supporting his upper body with his hand, and his hook is trying to pull away the vest that is _squeezing_ him…

Swan’s sitting right in front of him, and he doesn’t have the mental strength to wonder how he manages it, but he leans forward towards her.

“It’s alright, it’s over,” he hears through some noise. His hand starts hurting, like it did when it gripped the counter, and his chest hurts, it hurts so much and the bloody vest just won’t go away…

“You’re safe now, it’s over.” He tries to register Emma’s words. He’s safe, he’ll be alright… what is that noise?

“Can I hold you?” Emma asks, though his head is already leaning on her shoulder. He tries to nod but something seems to be wrong…

When her hands touch his shoulders, he realizes how much he’s shaking. How his hand is gripping on the book as if his life depended on it, how his breathing is so shallow and quick his ribs start hurting, and how he’s been crying desperately since the moment he collapsed.

He was making those noises. Cries and sobs altered by the way his whole body shakes.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. He probably blacks out at some point, for the next thing he remembers is him lying on his side on the floor, a soft material under his head and Emma’s hand in his. The buttons of his vest are unfastened, so he feels he can breathe a little easier. He realizes he’s been drooling, but is too exhausted to bring up his hand and wipe the spit away, so he only looks up at Emma. She looks upset and a little scared, but she’s still there, not crawling away from his sorry presence.

“Are you with me?” she asks and he nods. She sighs in relief and rubs her thumb on his hand. “I thought for a moment I should call an ambulance.”

“What happened?” he asks weakly, hating his voice for how it betrays him.

“Well, you collapsed, you sort of had a panic attack… You weren’t breathing normally for some time, and that scared me a little-”

He hears her voice as she continues to speak, but he can’t listen as he stays focused on the word “scared”. He scared her, and it was just the first time she saw him like this. Little does she know that every time he wakes up he needs almost two hours to be able to get up from his bed, no matter how terribly or less terribly he slept. He pulls his hand away from her grasp and covers his face with it.

“I need you to go,” he whispers.

He hears how she breathes out a long breath. He doesn’t dare look.

“I can’t leave you here. Granny said she’ll be back-”

“I told you to go!” He curls in on himself further.

Emma stays silent for two seconds. “Can I poof you back to your room? I can’t-”

“Okay,” he says too fast, too loud. The next moment, he feels the soft mattress under his side. He takes his hand away to check, and Emma isn’t there.

With a pained sob, he realizes he didn’t really know if he wanted her there or not.

He covers his face with the blanket and cries desperately. How did it come to this, him crying out like a bloody baby and not being able to do a thing for himself?

He suddenly remembers the fairies. He has to let Emma know… but it’s like his limbs are made of lead, like any move he makes will land him to a pit full of shit where he won’t be able to crawl away from.

He brings his trembling hand to rest above his beating heart and he cries until he has nothing left, and then some more.

* * *

Saying he’s absolutely, bone-deep exhausted would be an understatement. His feet are almost shaking as he walks down the stairs one by one from his room, and his eyes are closing on their own on his way to the Station. He almost bumps into someone, and he feels his heart race wildly at the proximity. Before he knows it, he’s running toward the Station, his legs giving out a few steps away from the entrance. His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he stays there, lying down where his spit drops to the dirty pavement. He hears someone stepping out from the Station, but he has no strength to lift his head up. The steps disappear and then appear again with the sound of another pair of feet.

“Good thing you weren’t Leroy. Okay, I need you to not tell anyone about this, do you hear me?” Swan says.

“Does he need anything? I can bring some medicine-”

“No, Clark. Just go and keep your mouth shut about it, okay?”

Killian hears a sneeze. “Okay.” The dwarf walks away, and Killian feels Swan step closer.

“Killian? Can you hear me?”

He can only hum. Even that takes a lot of energy.

“You shouldn’t have come here like this. Are you hurt? Should I call-”

“No,” Killian manages, weakly.

“Okay, but I need to take you inside. Is it okay if I pick you up?”

No, it’s not. He shouldn’t let her pick him up like he’s some kind of helpless doll. He’s… He sighs. “Okay,” he says.

He feels her hand around his wrist, and then his arm goes around her shoulders. Her other arm hugs his torso closer, and she takes a few hesitant steps to the door.

“Fuck it,” she whispers and then they’re inside the Station. She sets him down gently on the sofa. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and before Killian even has the chance to realize she’s gone, she’s back sitting next to him, offering something lean and cold to his hand.

He struggles to open his eyes, and he sees it’s a glass, the cold water inside moving wildly with how his hand trembles. Emma helps him bring it to his lips, and he realizes he’s parched. When was the last time he drank water instead of rum - or even had a decent meal to begin with?

He weakly drinks the whole glass and leans on Emma, gasping for air after drinking too fast. Emma’s one hand goes around his shoulders, trying to keep him from collapsing to any direction while her other holds on to his.

“Any better?” she says.

Killian manages to nod. He needs to talk, to let her know about the fairies and the old man, and then he can drag his sorry ass back to the inn and probably never walk out of it again.

“What happened?” Her voice is so soft it almost brings tears to his eyes. There she is, holding him, ruined and broken as he is, a fucking villain, and he’s just letting her…

No. He needs to confess. He needs to save what can be saved, and then he can drown in his own self-pity.

“The box… the box that G-Gold had… it turns into a hat. A magical hat.”

“Okay,” Emma says simply.

“It can s-s-suck people i-in. I don’t know h-how, but it d-does…”

“Okay, Killian. That’s enough. That’s great information, but you need to rest. You look terrible.”

“N-no… I n-need…” His voice fails him.

“So those people, the fairies and the old man are trapped in the hat?”

“Y-yes…”

“Do you know if it killed them?”

“No… I- I mean, I don’t… know…” he sags against her, thinking now becoming more and more tiring.

“Okay. I’m taking you back to your room now. I’ll report in the information right after.”

“No…”

“No what?”

“Come with me. Report now and come with me, please,” he says without thinking.

“Okay,” he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t think he hears a smile in her voice. “Just lie down here as I fill in the report, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He nods, feeling a smile creep up his lips. The last thing he feels is her hands guide him down on the sofa.

* * *

He wakes up on his bed the next morning - or probably noon, judging by how high on the sky the sun is. There is a bottle of water and a selection of pastries on the bedside table. He sees Emma sitting cross-legged on the other bed, toying with her phone.

He suddenly remembers what happened the last night. He tiredly, half-drunkenly sauntered to the station and begged her to come sleep with him. He told her what he’d remembered, and that’s all he could recall.

And stayed she did. He feels tears prickle his eyes, and he sniffles. To his dismay, Emma hears him and turns, immediately jumping off the bed to sit on the floor next to him. He closes his eyes. No, not again…

“Hey,” she says so softly it makes him want to cry. “You had a nightmare?”

“No. Why are you here?”

“You asked me to come with you, remember? Belle called me, she says she already found something about the hat… box, whatever.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles softly.

“You nearly passed out on the couch yesterday. You should have waited until you’ve rested fully. You’re lucky it wasn’t Leroy who found you or else the whole town would have known by now.”

She says it with such a light heart, such carelessness that she looks taken aback when he shivers.

“Good,” he says.

“Killian? Do you want to say something?”

“About what?”

“Anything. I was worried yesterday. You had two flashbacks and a panic attack, and then a few hours later I found you almost passed out on the sidewalk. And you’re starting to look thin, and tired-”

He cuts her off by wincing, closing his eyes and burying his face in the pillow.

“Sorry. That was a little too much.”

“They need to be saved. The fairies, and the other man…”

“Yes, they do. And they will be. But that doesn’t mean you have to push yourself to your limits to help with that. Give yourself some time to rest.”

Once again, tremors spread through his body. No, no, not bloody again…

“Killian, I’m here.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Yesterday you did. What changed?”

Killian only manages to sniffle.

“I know it’s hard for you-”

“You don’t know anything.”

“You can tell me, then. I want to help you. I can’t see you like this.”

He takes a few breaths. “Why?” he says. What does she get out of this? Why doesn’t she leave him to wallow in his own misery?

“Because it breaks my heart,” she says even softer, Killian has to lift up his eyes to her to be sure she said that. “I know you think you don’t deserve or need help, but I’ve felt like this too many times in my life to not be desperate to do something for it. For you. Let me help you.” She puts her hand on the mattress, itching to get closer but keeping it away, giving Killian the space to grab it if he wants to.

He grabs his pillow instead, taking deep breaths. If she wants him to talk about it, he can try to do that.

“Gold… he took my heart that night we found you in the manor.” He doesn’t look at her. If he sees any reaction he may stop talking, so he keeps his eyes closed, his face buried in the pillow and his voice low. “He summoned me to his shop later. I… I should have known. I should have realized, but…” His breathing goes faster. “H-he forced me to… he for- forced me on my knees. And then… then he f-forced him-himself in-n my m-mouth.”

He waits for a response from Emma, hearing none. He continues, his breathing still labored.

“It wasn’t… wasn’t the first time I-I was… but every other time, I c-could fight, fight back to try and g-get away. It never helped, but at… at least I had the c-choice. With him…” He sobs. “I couldn’t move at all. He ordered… _ordered_ me to n-not move aw-away.” The memory hits so hard he almost feels numb. The Dark One had known exactly what he hated and he used it against him, like this…

“I was s-scared. I knew he was g-going to kill me. And he wanted to m-make everything as worse as he c-could.” He chances a glance to Emma. Her offered hand is now a fist, grabbing firmly on the sheet and her face is down. He can see she’s clenching her jaw and swallowing hard before she looks up at him, ready to hear more.

“The n-next time,” he starts and closes his eyes again, “was at the D-Diner. He made me trap the-the fairies in the hat, and I… I heard you, when you c-came with Anna, expecting to find the others there. It w-was my fault…”

“It wasn’t, Killian.”

Killian breathes in hard, his chest already hurting. His mind is begging him to stop, but he has to let it all out. “Then he came. He p-pushed me on the c-counter…” He can’t hold on any longer. The sobs just come and overwhelm him to the point where he can’t speak. He gasps for air, helplessly grabbing at his pillow as if it’s a lifeline. Why is this so bloody hard? He takes deep breaths, trying to calm his sobs down.

“It hurt. I remember the blood running down my legs.” He bites down on his lip for a moment, sobs still rocking his body. “He f-forced me to not m-move. He p-put my heart in front of me like-like it was on bloody display. I cr-cried, while he raped me. He grabbed my hair and… and k-k-...” He can’t say it.

“What did he do?” he hears.

“He k-kissed me. He m-made me kiss him, l-like I… like I do you.”

More sobs come, but he finds his voice faster this time. “He then gr-grabbed… me. My…” he feels like a fool for that, but he can’t finish that sentence. Emma’s soft gasp lets him know she understood. “He took me in h-his hand and just… almost m-made me b-b-beg him.” He moves his head a little, trying to find a spot on his pillow that isn’t soaked with his tears. “I screamed, but I-I didn’t beg. He then left me there, in pain and b-bleeding and…” He sobs again.

“Was that when you came to the Station? When I kissed you goodbye?”

“Yes,” he whispers. He can hear her take a deep breath, but he stubbornly keeps his head low. There’s only one part left and he can’t believe how hard it is. Thinking about all that happened and saying them out loud… he feels like he’s re-opened barely healed wounds and stuck his fingers in them for good measure

He manages to look up at Emma. Her head is high, but she’s looking down and her hands are crossed together on the mattress.

Killian moves his shaking hand, trying to reach her, but she instantly draws her hands closer and stands up, almost running to the bathroom. She tries to close the door, but through the small opening he hears the distinct sound of her throwing up in the toilet. His blood freezes and a feeling of emptiness washes over him.

It’s over. She’s reached her limit.

Her face is apologetic once she walks out of the bathroom.

“Leave,” he says, surprised to hear he sounds angry.

Emma looks at him with wide eyes. “Killian-”

“Leave!” His voice is husky, raspy, broken from all his crying, but he still manages to shout. He feels anger light up his head, the coldness of his depression being replaced with a fire he almost forgot he had. New tears run down his cheeks, but he knows those are anything but sad.

“I’m sorry,” Emma mutters. She keeps looking at him as she exits, silently begging him to let her stay.

When she closes the door, he feels his old sadness come back, making him sag bonelessly on his mattress.

* * *

The next days are the hardest of all. When he finds the strength to go to the library again, Belle shoos him out in the gentlest way possible. He feels like his world is crumbling down, but she says that he pushed himself too much for this case and deserves some rest.

He doesn’t care about what he deserves; he _wants_ to help and he’s being thrown out…

He finds himself walking to the docks every day, feeling glad for not having a flashback when he gets there. Sometimes he falls asleep at nights there and is woken up by fishermen and dock workers, telling him to go home.

He wants to cry at their words. He doesn’t have a home anymore. He hates to admit how even walking the threshold to Granny’s sometimes threatens to trigger a flashback - and there were times it did - but he has no other choice but to walk back there and try not to cry.

Swan calls him every day but he doesn’t answer. She sends messages but he doesn’t read them. She or even David sometimes try to talk to him when they see him outside but he changes direction and almost runs away.

Why won’t they leave him alone, like he deserves?

Eventually, there comes a day where he doesn’t run when Emma approaches him on the street. At first she looks unsure, as if she’s waiting for him to run at the last moment, but when he stays where he is she walks closer with confidence.

“Hey,” she says and tries to smile. “I’m sorry about the other day.”

Why could she possibly say that? _Again_? “Aye, me too,” he says bitterly.

“Do you think we can talk about it?”

“Talk about what? I opened up to you, I struggled to let it out because you said you can handle it and then you couldn’t!”

“I’m human, Killian. It was a lot to hear.”

“Aye, try experiencing all that.”

“I didn’t want that. I hated that it happened. I’m sorry, I wanted to be there-”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” He feels his stomach turn with disgust.

“But… I know it scared you. I know it made you think that I won’t be strong enough to stand by you through all that.”

He sighs. “It’s nothing like that.”

“It’s not?” She sounds surprised.

Killian doesn’t reply. He only tries to take a hesitant step backwards, looking down.

“What is it then?” she asks.

“I know you’re strong, Emma. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known… but seeing you react like that… it made me realize it was something no one could handle.”

She stays silent for a few moments. “And that means you have to take all the burden yourself?”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah-” she cuts herself off. Killian’s head snaps up at her, feeling that she was about to add “I can see that”. Instead he sees her cringing, thinking for the right words. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve told you that a million times. Why can’t you listen to that?”

His shoulders sag. “Because you don’t deserve it.”

“To hell with what I deserve! And even if I didn’t, what does it matter? It’s my choice to make.”

He shakes his head. “Swan…”

She steps a little closer. “What is it?”

“Don’t do this.” His voice breaks.

“Why?”

_Because I don’t deserve it._

“How can you stand to be so close to me? How can you stand _me_?”

“What?” she asks, confused.

“I don’t deserve the help you’re so willing to give.”

“Why?”

He looks at her. He sees a deep determination in her eyes, something simmering under the surface.

“Because of my past. Because of the man I was. Because of… of what Gold did.”

Emma holds up one finger. “You’ve changed.” Two fingers. “You became a better person without anyone asking it of you.” Three fingers. “What Gold did to you doesn’t get to define you.”

“How do you know that? How do you know that I won’t be thinking of him every time someone touches me? How are you so sure that I won’t be hearing his voice in my head saying that I don’t deserve you every time you take my hand in yours?”

“Because you’re strong enough to fight it! If only you let me help you.” She does take his hand in both of hers, bringing it close to her chest. She kisses his knuckles, and he feels his feet go cold. If only she knew that the skin just a little higher is laced with fresh cuts, from his hook no less.

“You’re _not_ what he tried to make of you. You’re not what he ever believed you are. And… you’re not… ruined.”

Killian blinks a few times in surprise. Did she really say that? She stares into his eyes, and her voice grows a little louder.

“You’re _not_ ruined. I still want to be by your side. He hurt you and because of that I don’t give a damn what he thinks of you. You shouldn’t either. I know things may never be the same, but he doesn’t get to define what you can be.”

His heart races, and he feels his face go red. How did she-

She doesn’t pull away. She means it. Totally means it and _that_ he surely doesn’t know how to handle. He slowly pulls his hand away and she lets him. He turns his back and without a word, he walks away from her.

* * *

Walking to the docks has become such a big part of his days lately that he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. He’ll just walk without a thought and when his head will shoot up, he’ll be there.

Only this time he feels a strange emptiness in him. The small hopeful part of him wants to think it’s because a weight was just lifted from his shoulders but he knows better. Or does he? His emotions have been a true mess since the moment the Crocodile pulled his heart out of his chest anyway.

If he’s being honest, though, he never truly had a great grasp at them, had he? Always the one to get into trouble, even when he knew that his brother would pay for them as well, always impulsive, always passionate…

He rests his forehead on his hand and sighs. How will he get himself out of this mess?

He watches the sky grow orange and red as the sun nears the horizon. It’s always a sight for sore eyes, he thinks, feeling a little calmer. Perhaps Emma is right. Perhaps he can trust her to bear this weight with him. But how can he trust himself to not mess it up?

Speaking of which, he spots Emma far on the side, looking at him and wringing her hands together. He smiles a little at her and scoots at the side of the bench, inviting her.

She smiles too as she approaches. “How are you feeling?” she asks and sits down.

“Better… I suppose.” Her hands are resting on her lap, almost itching to get closer to him, but he purposefully toys with his hook.

“Look… I know it’s not gonna be easy. I know you’ll need time to heal, and it make take a lot of time, but I’m prepared to help you. I want to.” Her hand creeps a little closer. “And even if you keep asking yourself if you deserve it, I’ll stay by your side. Can you look at me?”

He turns to her, and the emotion in her eyes brings tears to his. They’ve only been together for such a short time, yet he feels he’ll never grow used to the adoration with which she looks at him. Probably because he’ll always think he doesn’t deserve it.

“It took me a lot of time to open my heart to my family and accept that this is my home. I was scared of losing people, of being betrayed… but now I’m not. And I’m not scared to help you with what you’re going through.” Her hand wraps softly around his, and he hesitantly starts entangling their fingers. She moves her fingers among his as well, and she smiles.

“Why?” is all he manages to say, despite how many more words are begging to be said.

Her smile stays on. “For the same reason you’d do the same for me.”

He blinks. He looks at her. It’s all he can do after hearing her words… of course he’d do the same - he’d go to hell and back if it meant she never had to go through it, and he’d do the same if it meant he could help her get over it.

Because he loves her.

His shoulders sag and a sigh escapes his lips at the realization. She’s been doing the very same for him, hasn’t she? He was so adamant to know why she wanted to help him that he didn’t think that she would be scared to voice the reason, despite how willing she is to help.

She scoots closer. “Because I love you.”

His lips turn into a smile and a tear slips from his eye. She raises her hand slowly and, looking at him, she wipes the tear away. She loves him, and she’s over her fear of saying it. For him, for his poor sorry- No. She loves him, she’s not feeling sorry. She cares for him.

She loves him.

Now is as good a time to say it as any, he thinks.

“And I love you.”

Her smile grows wider and she gets even closer, their arms pressed against each other’s. She rests her head on his shoulder and he leans his on top of hers.

“Thank you, Emma,” he says in a soft voice, but they can both still hear the half-hidden sob behind it. Emma rubs his arm with her other hand, soft and caring as if she knows about the cuts. She probably does. She doesn’t ask.

They stay there until the sun sets. She then pulls at his hand softly and guides him to the loft.

She invites him in, and he stays.

For the first time in such a long time, he feels he’s home.


End file.
